


A Hard Day’s Night

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: Paul McCartney had quite a few problems. Two very big problems.1. His mother was sick in the hospital.2. He had a huge (very big) crush on his best mate, John Lennon.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 40
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is FICTION
> 
> Nothing in this is true was ever true or will ever be true. That being said, enjoy.

Paul McCartney had quite a few problems. Of course, who didn’t? But there were two of his that were really pulling him apart inside.

1\. His mother was sick in the hospital. 

She’d been there for a very long time, and Paul had almost found himself used to it. But every time he got a call from that god awful doctor, whose voice sounding like he had something stuck in his throat, well, he couldn’t help but cry.

2\. He had a huge (very big) crush on his best mate, John Lennon.

This wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t illegal. Or if John Lennon wasn’t so obsessed with girls. It might’ve even made the problem bearable, but at his current position, it remained at the top of his list of troubles.

-

“No!” George groaned as John smirked, holding Boardwalk in his hands.

“I own both of the dark blues now,” he remarked, causing Ringo to roll his eyes. “You three are screwed.”

“Maybe you could go easy on us, yeah?” Paul said with a nervous laugh. “You don’t need any houses, anyroad. Just a waste of money I say.”

“Yeah, alright. Whatever you say McCartney.” John took some of his monopoly bills and handed them to Ringo in exchange for six little houses. He placed them each on the board over their respective space and laughed.

“You’re evil,” George said as he rolled. And as he moved around his piece, he counted to himself. “One, two, three, four… shit.”

“Yes!” John called. “I knew I shouldn’t have waited till the next turn. Alright, you owe me… 1300 monopoly money.”

“You’re kidding,” George replied incredulously. “God, I don’t even have that much.”

“You’ll have to give me one of your properties, then.”

George looked sadly down at the own piece he had, a railroad. “That’s bloody stupid! Who came up with that?”

They all looked over at Paul, who only chuckled.

“Don’t laugh,” the young guitarist grumbled. “You’ll be next. You can’t afford to pay him, either.” He flicked the card across the board to John, and it proceeded to hit him in the eye.

“Ow!” 

“Oh, shut it,” Ringo laughed at his now red eye.

The four of them had been having a great time with their board game, but as soon as Paul heard the phone ring, he knew something was wrong. John had stood up to answer it, and when he covered the speaker and looked over at Paul, motioning that the call was for him, he knew it was worse than he suspected. 

He stood up from his spot on the floor next to the monopoly board and hurried to get the phone so John could return to the board.

“Hullo? Paul here.”

“Good evening, Mr. McCartney.” That was his first clue of what was to come. He knew that man’s voice. His mother’s doctor, and whenever he called, it was about some kind of medicine that was no longer working on her. He was tired of spending so much on all these new pills. “I’m so sorry, but… Paul, your mother’s passed away.”

Oh. It was worse than he’d expected. Much, much worse. But of course, he couldn’t help but believe it wasn’t even true. “No.” For some reason, no other words could come out of his mouth.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” The line went dead, and Paul remembered nothing more than blackness… 

As soon as they heard a crash in the kitchen, they looked up to see that Paul was now lying on the floor, unconscious. John got up and ran over to him, sitting him up on the floor cabinets

“Paul,” he called out as he slapped him across the face. “Paul! Hey, wake up, mate!”

Paul’s eyes fluttered open to see John so close to him, and he got a little nervous. “What are you doing, Johnny?”

“You fainted, Macca. You alright?” Paul nodded, even though he was most definitely not alright. But his friends couldn’t know that. “Okay, let’s get you into bed then. You look like you need it.”

-

The night had been horrible for Paul. He woke up trembling, clinging to John (John?), and tears were running down his face. He’d had nightmares before, but it was a lot more surreal when it was your own mother in them, dying.

“You alright?” The voice was soft, but it still scared him. He jumped. “Paul?”

“I’m fine…”

“You were screaming, Paulie. Woke me up, and I was dead scared for you. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He got into the bed, and Paul scooted closer to him, because the dread running through him was horrible, and he couldn’t stand to be awake in the pitch dark like this. “M’sorry I woke you up. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright. Try to get back to sleep, okay? Don’t want you to be too tired tomorrow.”

Paul nodded. “Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Macca.” The older man sneaked from his room as he drifted off back into his not so peaceful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time he awoke wasn’t quite as scary as the first time. And to his surprise, it was already morning, and John was already out of his bed. He got up and stalked off to the kitchen to see John ready with toast in the toaster.

“Morning, Paul. Just in time, I think the toast is about to pop up.”

Paul smiled as he took a seat at the bar. “You made me toast?” He laughed a little, but couldn’t hide the blush that spread across his face.

“Of course. You had a rough night. I thought it was the least I could do to make up for it.”

“John, it wasn’t even your fault.” His smile somehow grew wider when the toast popped up and John jumped. 

“I know, but I still feel bad about it. God, you should have heard yourself. Sounded like somebody was crying bloody murder. Like somebody had died, my god.”

Paul’s smile faded, and he tried to smile again, but he just couldn’t find a way to get his mouth to move from a frown.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

“It’s n-nothing.”

As much as Paul was trying to avoid the subject at hand, John wouldn’t let it go. “Is this about that phone call you got last night? Who was that anyway?”

“John, please, I don’t want to talk about it.” He sniffled, and John saw that he was now crying.

“Alright.” He finished the toast, and when he handed it to Paul, he smiled. “You know you can tell me whatever, Paul.”

“I know, John. I just don’t want to right now, okay?”

“Alright. Enjoy your toast.”

“Thanks, John.”

-

The day went by slowly, and George and Ringo came over again. Paul had been shy around Ringo since he joined the band, despite his outgoing self, and now he was even more shy. He barely spoke all day until George and Ringo left.

John hadn’t mentioned how quiet Paul had been today in front of George and Ringo, figuring something really was wrong.

By the time it was time for bed, Paul still hadn’t said too much, and John was getting worried about it. But he didn’t want to make Paul uncomfortable at all, so he continued to say nothing. 

-

The next morning, Paul woke up to something he hadn’t felt in years. Wet sheets. He sat up quick and realised that John was sitting on the bed next to him. Shit.

“Hey, hey, Paulie. You’re alright. Did you have another nightmare?” 

Paul’s face turned ghostly white as he nodded. He tried to shake the feeling off of him, but he couldn’t.

“Paul, you poor thing. You look so scared. Do you want to get on up and we can get some breakfast?”

“N-no. Just… erm, could you go? Like, leave?” He felt horrible saying that to John, who had been nothing but lovely to him, not even knowing what was wrong.

“W-why? Are you okay?” John was doing a horrible job of hiding the hurt in his face.

“I’m fine,” he said, just a little too quickly. 

“Paul…” He started to scoot a little closer to Paul, but not seconds later he felt it. He looked down at the sheets to see that a dark stain was spread out from underneath the blanket, and so he lifted the blanket to see the stain was circling Paul, and sure enough, his pants were soaked. “Oh, God. Paul, sweetie…”

“John, please could you just leave? I feel horrible enough. I don’t need you seeing this, too.”

By the way he spoke like he was about to break down, John could do no such thing as just leave. “I want to help you clean it up, Paul,” he said sweetly, getting closer to him and placing his hand on Paul’s face. “Can I do that?” 

Paul kept his eyes down to help hide the tears coming out of his eyes. “Alright.”

John wrapped an arm around Paul, and he knew that he couldn’t possibly be this upset about some nightmares and wet sheets. He still avoided asking him, helping the younger man to the toilet.

When they got there, John sat Paul down on the toilet seat. “John,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”

John got down onto his knees and took Paul’s face in his hands. “What’s the matter, Paulie? That nightmare must have been really bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t just a nightmare, Johnny. It was real. Everything that happened in it was r-real.” Sobs started to escape his mouth, and John didn’t know what to do. Paul flung himself onto the older man and sobbed harder.

“Paul? What’s wrong?” His question was so soft that Paul wept even harder at his kindness.

“J-Johnny. It’s my mum. She… she’s gone.” He sobbed again, and John’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even considered the possibility. He knew that Paul’s mom had been sick. They all knew that, but why hadn’t he even thought of that.

“Oh. Oh, God… Paul, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so, so sorry.” He hugged Paul back, letting him sob into his chest. He started to whisper soft words to the bassist as he cried.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Paul decided to get on the bus, letting it take him wherever it wanted to. He wasn’t in the mood to sit around the house and do nothing, especially with John now knowing what was wrong. And that he’d wet himself, too!

John surely wouldn’t like him now. Why would he ever? He knew he’d lose John if he couldn’t work up the courage to tell him how he really felt. Or to just forget about him completely.

But if Paul did tell John about the way he felt, would he stop caring for Paul when he woke up from his nightmares? Would he continue to have nightmares? How long would they go on? Forever?

In the midst of all of his thinking, he started to feel his breaths become closer and closer together, and his chest started getting tight.

Before he knew it, he was standing up and pulling on the request stop wire. The bus stopped, and he hurried off, running into the nearest building as he felt bile rising in his throat. He ran into the toilet, into a stall, and started to puke his guts out. A man appeared behind him.

“Hey, had too much to drink already? It’s only nine.” Paul finished and turned around to see a short man, a red polo shirt on, and a snarky smile played across his face.

“Who are you?” His voice was weaker than he thought it’d be when it escaped his throat, and he cringed at the way it hurt.

“My name’s Charles. I come around here a lot. What about you? You got a name?”

“Paul,” he said, standing up from the toilet and flushing it.

“You don’t seem very drunk. Especially since…”

“I haven’t had any to drink. It’s just been a rough day.”

Charles smiled at him. “Well, if you haven’t had any to drink, maybe you’d like to talk about it over one?” an even bigger smile appeared on the strange man’s face, and Paul, too, smiled a bit.

He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t just go home. John would be so mad at him, and he would be hopeless again. He hated that feeling. “Sure,” he said, against his better judgement.

“Great. Let’s go.” The man practically dragged Paul to a table and sat him down. “So… what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“Yeah,” Charles said, a soft smile on his face. “You said it’s been a rough day. Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… I don’t know. My friend, he’s been there for me through a lot recently, and I…” he trailed off when he started to panic, thinking about his own predicament.

“You like him don’t you?”

“W-what?” Paul had been completely caught off guard. How could this stranger know so much about him already?

“I used to have the same problem. I had a bit of a crush on my best mate, and when I told him about it, he just kind of left. I mean, it wasn’t obvious. He just slowly faded from my life.”

Paul’s eyes widened. He couldn’t let that happen between him and John. He was way too attached for that. And what would his life look like without his best mate? He would be so lonely. George was sure to drift away, too, if he didn’t see John anymore. Then Ringo would be all he had. 

“You alright, mate? You look a bit spooked.”

Paul nodded. “I’m fine. I think I better, er, I better go.”

“Hey! You sure?” Paul eyed him, and when he winked, the bassist practically choked on the air around him. “Wanna stay?”

Paul took the time to think about it. He really did want to stay with whoever this man was. He seemed nice enough. Before he could think about it anymore, he found himself nodding and following the man to one of the back rooms of the bar.

-

The third nightmare in a row. It was horrible. Paul once again found himself waking up with John at his bedside.

“You were… you were crying. Screaming, actually. Paul, you really aren’t okay. If you need anything, God…”

“I don’t. Really. I’m fine.” He went to stand up, and John saw as he sighed and threw his hands over his face. “Oh, my God. Again? This is ridiculous.” He knew what Paul was referring to immediately.

“Oh, erm, it’s alright.” He offered to help Paul out of the bed with his arm, but the younger man just rolled his eyes.

“No! It’s not alright! God, what am I? Five? Jesus Christ.” Paul got up and stormed out of the room, and John started to pull off the sheets. It would be no use trying to calm the younger man down. 

-

That day was a little easier for Paul. George was over, and it gave him somebody to talk to. Not that John was bad or anything. He just really couldn’t talk to him right now.

John was in the kitchen making lunch for all of them, leaving just George and Paul on the couch together.

“How have you been?”

“Fine,” Paul lied. “How about you?”

“Alright,” George said, clearing his throat as he was about to switch the conversation back to Paul. “I heard you were, erm, wetting the bed.”

Paul choked on air. “What? How did you… I mean, er, w-what are you talking about?”

“Well, I kind of forced it out of John. He’s been really worried about you. Says there’s more he can’t tell me.”

“I can’t believe he fucking told you… God, this is humiliating.” Paul felt more tears coming on, but he forced them away. “There’s nothing else.”

“Paul…”

“No! I don’t need your fucking pity. I shouldn’t have even bloody told him. Now he’s worried about me. It’s like I’m a kid.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad thing that he’s worried for you. I am, too. What’s wrong?”

Paul huffed just as John came into the room. He immediately looked up at him, anger written all over his expression. “You just had to tell him, didn’t you?”

“God, Paul. Calm down. I’m worried, and I thought that telling George that something was up would mean another pair of eyes to watch out for you.”

“You didn’t have to tell him I was pissing myself!” Paul defended. “I thought that would stay between you and I!”

“I never said--”

“It’s kind of an unspoken rule, John! Unless it’s yours to share, don’t fucking share it!” Paul got up and ran out, disregarding the sandwiches John had set down on the coffee table.

He eyed George. “Really? You didn’t have to mention it.”

“I guess I could say the same to you.” John rolled his eyes, sitting down to eat his sandwich.


	4. Chapter 4

George left around nine, and Paul, too, was out of the door a few hours after. He went to the same bar as the night before, shocked when he saw that Charles was sitting at the same table as last time. He walked over to him and sat across from him.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Charles looked up and a smile appeared on his face, matching Paul’s.

“Paul! No, of course you’re not. Please. Sit. How are you? Are things a bit better?”

“Not much. What about you?”

“I’m alright. Funny seeing you here again.”

Paul sighed. “Yeah, I guess. What are you doing here again, anyway?” The bassist honestly couldn’t have cared less about what the other man was doing here. He was just glad to see him. But he knew that if he didn’t ask the question, the conversation would have died.

“I’m always here. Especially when there’s somebody I like that I’ve seen.” 

Paul laughed nervously. “Who’s that?”

Charles grinned. “It’s you, Paul.” Paul’s smile faded as he got more nervous. “I dreamt about you. And I just happened to see you again. Isn’t that funny?”

Paul couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was like Charles was trying to force some sort of relationship between them. “I-I… suppose so. Erm, I was actually just leaving… I should get home to my friend.”

“Hey, there’s no need to leave. Sorry if I was too forward. I’ll, er, go find somewhere else to sit.” He started to get up, and Paul felt bad. Why would he feel bad? The man made him feel uncomfortable, but he still felt words fly out of his mouth.

“Oh, wait. No, you can stay. I’ll, er, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel so bad about it.”

“If you’re sure.” Paul nodded quickly, smiling again. Charles sat back down, and two larger men appeared at the end of the table. “Can I help you?” Charles asked, looking between them and Paul.

“We’d like you two to come outside with us.”

“We’re good,” Paul said politely, and they were about to continue their conversation, but one of the men grabbed Paul’s shirt and pulled him out of his chair.

“Sorry. It wasn’t a request.” Paul and Charles started to walk outside with them, exchanging nervous glances. They got outside, and were thrown into the wall. The man with a red shirt rammed his fist into Charles’ stomach.

“Ow!” Charles started to cough, and the man put his hand over his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

“Hey!” Paul shouted. “Leave him alone! We didn’t do a thing to you!”

The other man in front of Paul laughed. “These f*gs said they didn’t do nothing to us!” He got so close to Paul that Paul could feel the hot breath on his face. And then he kneed the smaller man in the crotch hard. Paul’s legs gave out, and if it weren’t for the hands of the bigger man, he would’ve fallen to the ground.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the white hot pain shooting through his entire stomach was too much to get over.

“Paul!” Charles’ choked voice rang through the air. “Paul, are you okay?!”

“He’s fucking fine. Just overreacting like a baby.” The man chuckled as his fist came down onto Paul’s face over and over again.

“Stop it! You need to fucking leave him alone! Hit me instead! He’s had a rough few days, okay?”

The man nodded, and they both started to hit Charles instead. Paul fell onto the hard concrete, grabbing at his crotch, still unable to feel the pain on his face over the fierce ache in his pelvis.

The few minutes more that they hit Charles seemed like forever, but they were gone soon enough. Paul got up to check on Charles, and he seemed just as bad as Paul. He had a few bruises on his face.

“God, my stomach is killing me,” he breathed out as he smiled, a bit of blood spotting his otherwise yellow teeth.

“You didn’t have to… do that. I would have been fine.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “You looked like you were gonna throw up.”

“Felt like it,” Paul laughed. He looked to see that Charles had locked eyes with him, the ends of his mouth curving up ever so slightly.

“You’re looking at my lips,” he said quietly. Paul looked back at his eyes, but Charles closed in to him and pressed both of their lips together, and it felt so nice that Paul couldn’t push away.

After a few seconds, Charles did, though, hissing at the pain in his busted lip.

“Erm, I don’t really think either of us are in the mood after that.” He laughed, and Paul agreed. “Do you want a ride home?”

“Er, alright.”

He was home at maybe one, and the amount of noise Charles’ car made scared him, hoping he wasn’t waking up John.

But John did hear. He stayed in his room as he heard the car drive off and Paul open the door and sneak into his room. He wanted to confront Paul about it, but at the same time, he didn’t want it to seem like he was staying up late to spy on him when he got home. So he kept quiet in his own bed.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning was the same as the others. Paul woke up, already knowing that John was behind him.

“Let me guess. I was screaming or crying or whatever else.” His voice sounded annoyed, but he didn’t know if it was at John or himself.

“Paul, are you okay? Do you need my help cleaning up again?”

“I don’t need your help with anything, okay?”

It got quiet, and he could hear John’s calm breathing. “Are you sure? Did you wet the bed?”

“Oh, sod off.” Paul groaned as he turned his body so that he could bury his face in his pillow to avoid crying.

“Paulie?”

John was being so sweet, but Paul couldn’t help but be mean. He was letting his emotions get the best of him. After a deep breath of hot air from his pillow, he spoke again. “Go! Away!”

His voice was muffled, but John got up and left all the same. He went into the kitchen, starting to make breakfast for the two, trying his best to ignore Paul running around to clean up his mess. 

The younger man walked into the room, and that’s when John saw his face, nasty bruises covering almost every part of it.

“Oh, my god. Paul, what the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, but that obviously wasn’t true. 

“McCartney, you have bruises all over your face, and you’re telling me that it was nothing.” John kept his voice down, not wanting to argue with him.

“I said it was fine. Now bloody leave it alone, dammit.”

“God, you know you can tell me if something’s going on. Paul, I don’t want you to have to go through this shit alone. If somebody’s hurting you--”

“It was a one time thing. We just ran into some bad people, okay?” Paul acted as if it was no big deal, sitting down to eat. But when he looked at John, John was staring at him. “What?”

“We? Who were you with, Paul?”

“Fuck off. Like you even care.” Paul had to force the tears back once again to get through his meal without bursting into tears.

“What? Why wouldn’t I care?” John kept his voice soft, eyes full of sympathy for his friend, but Paul didn’t answer, and that made him want to cry, too.

-

He left again that night, much to the dismay of John, and went to the same bar in hopes of seeing Charles again. Lucky for him, that’s exactly what he did.

“Hey, any better today?” 

Paul couldn’t help but smile at how nice he was, always putting Paul’s day and feelings before his. “Now that I’m here, I suppose. I don’t know, though. Things have been really horrible lately. I…” He trailed off when he felt tears coming. He tried to hold them back, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of Charles. The man was all he had left.

“Paul, you okay?” Paul nodded. “You sure? You look like you’re gonna cry.” Paul shook his head, but a tear slipped out. “Oh, sweetie. It’s okay if you’re upset about something. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, I won’t force you, but I’m always here to listen.”

Those words were all Paul needed to let the tears go. He sobbed right off the bat as he started to chew on his wrist.

“Paul,” Charles said gently. “Hey, what’s up? Are you okay?” He slid into the other booth next to Paul, wrapping an arm around him.

“It’s just… I’ve been having these horrible nightmares. My mom, she just passed away, and I’ve been screaming all night. My friend is always there for me, but I just feel like a burden on him, and being so weak in front of him… it’s humiliating.”

“Is he the one you like?”

Paul nodded. “I feel like he’ll never like me if he sees me like that all the time. It’s horrible. I keep leaving the house, and I’m hiding this all from him. I’m hiding you, and I don’t want to be. I feel so bad.”

Paul cried for a solid few minutes, and Charles said nothing as he hugged him.

“Hey, you know, I did something similar with my wife.”

Paul pulled away. “You’re married? You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be…”

Charles laughed. “Calm down. I’m not anymore. I was just saying… when I was married, I had this secret boyfriend that I’d see at night, and eventually I had to tell her that I was… gay. It was hard, but I’m glad I did. We got through the divroce peacefully, and we’re still friends. It’s just nice not having that weight on my shoulders anymore.”

Paul snuggled up close to him, humming.

“I’m sorry about your mom. That must be hard.”

“Yeah. I’ll be alright, though.”

A silence overtook them both for a few minutes before Charles spoke again. “Did you want to… erm, go in the back?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really feeling it tonight.” He sighed and leaned into Charles again.

“You know, I’m just going to use the toilet,” Charles said, standing up. He grabbed his jacket and started to walk off. Paul knew he wouldn’t be back.


	6. Chapter 6

Paul walked home alone that night without a jacket. The cold bit at his face on the long walk home, and he thought that getting home and getting inside would feel so nice, but as soon as he opened the door, John was waiting on the couch.

“Oh, god,” he whispered to himself.

“Yeah. Oh, god.” As soon as he closed the door back, John stood up and started to walk towards him. “Do you think this is funny? To stay out every single night? It’s past midnight, Paul. Do you know how fucking worried I’ve been about you? I’ve been worried sick, and you’ve been out every bloody night.”

“John…”

“No! I’m sick of it! I’m sick and tired of wasting my time with you! All this time I’ve been sitting in bed, hoping you’re okay, that you haven’t gone and gotten drunk or went home with the wrong person or run into some gang or something. I don’t know.” 

Paul felt anger rising in him. “Stop it. I’m not going out and messing around. Please just stop yelling at me.”

“You have some random stranger drive you home, and you’re sneaking in at one o’clock in the morning! Every! Single! Night!”

“It’s not some random stranger! It’s my friend, John! You know I have friends other than you, right? I mean, are you even my friend? Because if you were, you wouldn’t get mad at me for going out and minding my own fucking business!”

“No, Paul! Your friend would be worried about you! And worried why you’re going out every night! And I have been, but I’m done with it! I hope you’re happy with your new friend, Paul McCartney, because I’m out! I’m done with being your friend!”

John stormed out of the room, and Paul fell to the floor in tears.

-

The next morning, Paul once again woke up to his wet sheets. He covered his face with his hands and rolled over in bed.

“Oh, god. Go away, John,” he said, assuming John was going to be next to his bed again, worried about him. But when no reply came, he turned his head, and sure enough, John wasn’t there.

His emotions hit him like a train, suddenly remembering the fight they’d had the night before. Tears fell from his eyes faster than he could wipe them off his cheeks as he got up and started to pull the sheets off. Thoughts ran through his mind about how upset John was with him, and he hurried to get cleaned up and dressed, almost like routine now, and practically ran out the door.

-

George rushed in the door, kicking off his shoes. “John? Hey, I got here as fast as I could. What’s going on?” He started frantically trying to find John just as the older man walked into the room in tears.

“George…”

“Oh, God. What’s happened? Where’s Paul?” John ran at him, hugging him tight.

“I did something really bad.”

“John.” He pulled out of the hug. “I need you to tell me what’s going on.” He walked them both to the couch, sitting John down and taking a seat next to him. When he looked at John, he was starting to hyperventilate. “Hey, hey, deep breaths, okay?”

John nodded, spacing out his breathing accordingly. “He was g-gone when I woke up. He wasn’t in his bed or downstairs.”

“It’s alright, John. Is there any reason that he would leave like that?” John looked at the floor in silence, obviously hiding something. “John.”

“We had a fight.” George said nothing, ready to listen to John’s story. “He… he got home really late last night, like he has been, and I was waiting, because I was worried about him. And we started yelling at each other. And I said… I said… something really bad, Geo. I don’t know if I can fix it now.”

George hugged him. “Johnny, what did you say?”

“That I was done being his friend. And I didn’t mean it. I’m just… jealous, I guess. He said he’s been seeing his friend out there, and I got so jealous.”

“You got jealous? Because he has other friends?”

“No! Because I like him, George! Because I’m afraid that it might be some secret girlfriend or something, and that means that he doesn’t like me.”

A silence filled the room as George tried to comprehend what he’d just heard. John Lennon had just admitted his love for Paul.

“God, I know it’s disgusting. I shouldn’t have a crush on a man, especially not my best mate, but--”

“It’s not… John, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” John got quiet, swallowing. “You can’t help it if you love somebody.”

“What am I supposed to do?” His voice was almost a whisper.

“He’ll be back, okay? He’ll be back, and maybe if you just told him what you told me…”

“No! I couldn’t do that!”

“Johnny, if you did--”

“No! I’m not doing that!” George sighed. “Hey, George?”

“Yes?”

“Can you stay and wait for Paul to get back?”

George nodded reluctantly. Even though all he wanted was to get back home, he knew the safety of his friend was much more important.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has some non-con elements!

Paul sat at the bar next to Charles, gladly accepting the drink he put in front of him.

“Any better?” It seemed to be the way he always started their conversation.

“Worse,” he whispered. Charles looked at him funny, but Paul only shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I just want to sit here and do nothing.”

Charles kept quiet, but as Paul got more and more dizzy, he fell into his arms.

“You alright there, Paul?”

“I don’t know. I feel really dizzy. I think somebody spiked my drink or something.” He tried to stand up and grab his head.

“Hey, erm, maybe you shouldn’t try to walk around.”

“I’m leaving,” Paul replied, now worried that it was Charles who did this to him. How could he have been so stupid?

“You can’t leave. Not like this.”

“Well, I want to go home.” Paul got up and hurried towards the door, oblivious to the people he knocked over and ran into on his way. Charles ran to catch up with him.

“Paul, at least let me drive you. It’s not safe for you to be out and about like this.”

Paul wanted to argue, but he knew the other man was right. He really shouldn’t walk around like this. He could hardly see where he was going. “F-fine.”

Charles led Paul to and helped him into his car. The ride was short, only a few minutes, but when he arrived at Paul’s house and the bassist tried to unbuckle, Charles put his hand on Paul’s crotch, and he stopped.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m angry with you, Paulie.” His voice was still as sweet as it had been the last few nights, and Paul got even more nervous, if that was possible. “I’ve been trying to make you feel better for so long, and I’m tired of being the one you talk to. I want to fuck you, Paul. And you’re making that very hard to do.”

Paul gasped, trying to undo his seatbelt again, but Charles started to squeeze him. “S-stop, please.”

“I’m gonna make a deal with you, yeah?”

“A deal?”

“Mhm. See, I want to have some fun with you. Tomorrow night, okay? I’ll let you rest. All you have to do is meet me at the same place we usually do, okay? And don’t bring anybody, or you’ll both die, yeah?”

“I-I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. Because if you don’t, I’ll find you. I know where you live, Paul. You can’t hide from me.” Charles finally let go of Paul and undid his seatbelt for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetie,” he said with a smile, and Paul hurried out of the car and inside. He closed the door, locking it, and when he turned around, George was standing in the kitchen.

“Good God, Paul. What the fuck happened to you?” When Paul fell to the floor, the guitarist ran over to him, getting down on the ground and checking for his breathing.

“John’s gonna be so mad. I don’t want him to be any more mad at me.”

“He’s not mad, Paul,” George sighed, and Paul sat up. “He made me stay over here until you came home because he really is worried about you.”

“Well, somebody should tell him that I’m my own person and I’m responsible.”

“You fell over as soon as you got inside. How did you even get home?”

“Charl-- somebody drove me.”

George’s eyebrows knitted together. “Who’s Charl? Charlie? Is that her name?”

“Who’s name?” Paul asked in his drugged haze.

“John says you have a secret girlfriend.” Paul choked on something, though he wasn’t sure what. Is that what John thought he had been doing?

“A secret girlfriend? I don’t have a-- why would even care? That’s none of his business.”

“He’s into you, Paul. I thought that much was obvious.” When Paul said nothing in return and only stared at George, he kept talking. “What? Did you think a friend would be that worried about you? I would’ve been home right now, and I’m not because of you. Because he’s obsessed with you.”

“He’s… obsessed with me?” Paul started to feel a bit faint. He’d been going out every night because he thought John didn’t like him. Because he thought he had no chance with his best mate. But if all of that was for nothing? If he’d gotten himself wrapped up into all of this for nothing…?

“Yeah, he is.” George turned his head. “John! He’s home!”

John came running around the corner, despite how late it was, and Paul saw the tears running down his cheeks. “God, Paulie. Thank fuck you’re okay. I was so worried.”

Paul didn’t say anything more as John pulled him up off the floor and into a hug. Eventually, George left and John helped him to bed, getting in with him.

“John? Why don’t you go to your own bed?”

“And leave you alone like this? Yeah, right. Okay.” The two of them fell asleep just like that.


	8. Chapter 8

“Stay fucking still!” the man shouted at Paul as he struggled to pull away. “I said you better stay right there, or I will stab you. You hear me?”

The bassist felt hot tears sting his eyes, and as Charles got closer and closer to him, he kicked away from him.

“Go away!” And then there were hands on his side, and he shot up in bed. But the hands were still there. “No! Go away! Get your hands off of me!” The hands disappeared, and he came to reality just as John left the room.

When he reassessed the situation, he saw that the bed sheets were soaked, so John probably was, too. And the cover was on the floor. His heart was beating so fast, and he was so glad that it wasn’t real, but then he realised that John had heard the whole thing.

He got up, not even bothering with the sheets and stripped from his pyjamas, finding something else to put on. And when he sat down at the bar in the kitchen, John had already made him breakfast. 

“Paul? That wasn’t about your mom, was it?” He shook his head. “Do you want to talk about it? Or last night? You were knocked out…”

“I don’t want to talk, Johnny.” He started to selfishly eat his breakfast, and John only stared at him. “A-actually… I was talking to George, a-and…” John cocked an eyebrow. “He said that… nevermind.”

“No, Paul, w-what did he say?” John’s voice was nervous. Whatever Paul had heard from George had to be important.

“That you like me.” John’s face went pale. “Is it true?”

John shook his head. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t have Paul knowing that! Why would George even tell him? 

But as soon as he shook his head, Paul felt his heart sink. He stood from his chair and ran back to his room. It still smelled heavily of piss, and he wished he had changed the sheets, because he knew he wasn’t going back out there after humiliating himself like that.

“God, why did I even ask? It was a stupid question. John’s straight. He doesn’t like you.” He huffed to himself, despite nobody else being in the room with him, and slammed his fist into the wall, creating a small hole, and John ran down the hall, pulling on the door handle. 

“Paul? Are you okay?!”

“Go the fuck away, John! I don’t even care, okay? Just leave!”

“But are you okay?”

Paul looked down at his bleeding fingers. “I’m fine.”

-

He stayed cooped up in his room until it was time for him to go meet Charles. He got dressed and left his room. John was off the couch as soon as he saw Paul.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving again, are you?”

“Yes. I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Can’t I come with you? I’ll stay away from you and whoever you’re with. I just.. I don’t want you going out alone.”

“No! You can’t come, John! I have my own life! And I’m a responsible adult. I can do what I want!” Paul rushed out the door, slamming it on his way out and practically ran to the bar, hoping to get this all done and over with.

The second he saw Charles, though, he wanted to cry and turn around. But three men surrounded him in seconds, urging him back out of the door of the bar and into a nearby alleyway.

“Heard you were his latest victim,” one of them said to Paul, to which he didn’t respond.

As soon as they were hidden from public view, Charles pushed Paul down onto the ground.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited, and you just wouldn’t do anything with me. All you did was whine about your stupid life problems and made me nod my head along. Well, fuck that! I’m tired of that!”

As soon as he got down on the ground with Paul, the bassist scooted away as fast as he could. “Leave me alone!”

“No!” Charles stood up and got even closer to Paul, and at that very moment, Paul felt something warm and hot in his pants. He looked down to see that his bladder had decided that it would be a good time to empty itself. He covered his face in shame and felt a blow to the stomach.

“Disgusting! I can’t believe I waited so long for this just to have you fucking piss yourself! Well, if you thought you were getting any pleasure tonight, too bad! Not like that you aren’t!” He got down and undid Paul’s pants, pulling them down, even though the smaller man was still pissing, and kicked him as hard as he could in the crotch.

Paul closed his eyes, trying to just forget he was even here. But then the shoe came down on his face. Again and again. And before he knew it, Charles was gone. He got up despite the pain all over his body, pulled his pants back up, and hobbled into the bar. He found the phone and dialled his and John’s number.


	9. Chapter 9

“Why did you even tell him that?” John cried, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at George. 

“John, he needed to know. What did you say to him?”

“I told him it wasn’t true,” the older man mumbled.

George huffed. “God, why? You just have to trust me, okay? The next time you talk to him, you’re telling him the truth.”

“What if he’s disgusted by me? What happens then?” John pressed, trying to keep his worried tears at bay.

“Then he doesn’t deserve to be your friend. And if he doesn’t return the feelings, at least he knows. I mean, that’s just one less thing to have weighing down on your chest.” 

John tried to smile at him, but when he tried, it just wouldn’t work. He was too upset. “This is all too much. And it’s your bleeding fault! I just want you to know that.”

“I didn’t do a thing!” George defended himself.

“You told him that I fucking fancy him!” George saw that John was getting very angry from the conversation.

“And you told me that he’s been wetting the bed! What’s the difference?”

“It’s not his fault that he wets the bed! I knew you weren’t gonna make fun of him because it wasn’t his bloody fault!”

It got quiet as George searched John’s eyes with a frown. “And you think it’s your fault that you’re in love with Paul?”

A shrug. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“Well, you know that it’s not, right?” John quickly wiped away the first tear as it fell silently. “You didn’t choose to fall in love with him.”

“What?”

“I mean you had as much a choice as falling in love with him as he did soaking his sheets in his own piss. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to… it wasn’t a choice you made.”

“But it was… and it was a stupid decision.”

“You think I chose to fall in love with my English teacher? No, I definitely did not. You think Richie chose to fall in love with Mo? No, he didn’t. Now, it seemed to work out nice for him, but he sure as hell didn’t choose to.”

John stared at George. “What are you on about?”

“In fact,” George kept going. “The only choice Rich actually made was to tell her about it. And together they made the choice to date each other. Now they’re happy.” When John said nothing more, he continued once again. “I, on the other hand, chose not to tell my English teacher that I loved her, and I haven’t seen her in years because of it.”

“I don’t care about your bloody English teacher, George!”

“You know who you do care about, though? Paul.”

“Paul doesn’t care about me,” he said softly, accepting the fact. “All he cares about is his stupid girlfriend.”

George opened his mouth to speak again, but the phone rang, and John got up immediately and went to answer it.

“Hello?”

“... John?”

“I don’t wanna sit here and talk to you! Fuck off!” He slammed the phone down before George could even get to him and answer for him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done that…”

“Well, maybe he should come home and stop going out every night!” John huffed, and George sighed.


	10. Chapter 10

Paul felt dread rising in his stomach, and he didn’t dare try to call again. So instead, he called Ringo’s number. Even though the man was new to the band, and Paul still felt very shy around him, it was better than nothing.

When Ringo picked up, Paul didn’t know what to say.

“Hello? Who is this?” He still couldn’t make himself say something. “Okay, I’m gonna--”

“No, wait! Richie, it’s me.”

“Paul?”

“Y-yeah. I was just wondering if you could, erm, pick me up. I’m… drunk.”

“You don’t sound drunk.”

“Richie, please…” Paul swore that if Ringo didn’t come and pick him up, he would be stuck here all night, because he didn’t have the energy to walk home or the guts to call John again.

“Alright. Where are you?”

He let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding onto. “That bar on second street.”

“The gay one?” Ringo’s voice sounded hesitant, not wanting to accuse Paul of anything, but the bassist was just glad he was on his way.

“Y-yeah…”

“I’ll be right there. Hold tight.”

When he hung up, Paul ran out of the bar and sat on the front curb, waiting. He couldn’t stand being near any more people.

Ringo was there within minutes, and he felt so relieved to have somebody he knew be so close. The drummer got out of the car as soon as it was parked next to Paul and examined him. “Oh, God. Paul, what happened?”

“Nothing, I just want to leave.”

Ringo nodded, opening the passenger door. “Of course you do. Hey, get on in. I’ll take you home--”

“No! Please no! John doesn’t want to see me.”

“Oh, erm, do you want to come to my place then?” Paul nodded and got into the car. Ringo started driving, and before either of them knew it, they were at his place. Ringo helped him out of the car and inside, where Paul immediately pulled off his pants and threw them onto the floor.

“I can’t wear those anymore.”

“That’s alright. Why don’t you go shower and I’ll throw these in the wash, okay?”

Paul nodded and went off to have a shower. While he was cleaning himself up, Ringo got his clothes into the dryer and found him some pyjamas to wear, figuring they’d be the only thing of his that would fit the taller man.

He got them to Paul, along with a towel and sat down in the living room, waiting.

-

And Paul was out of the shower faster than he thought the man would be. He walked into the room, wearing the too short pyjama pants, but he didn’t complain about them.

“Thanks, Richie. I mean, so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Ringo knew that he shouldn’t have said anything more, but he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering, and the words escaped his mouth before he could think them over. “What about John?”

Paul only stared at him as he shook his head. “No, I tried to call him, and he only got mad at me. I would’ve gotten mad at me, too. I’m a horrible friend, and it’s my own fault that any of this happened.”

“Hey! It’s not your fault that you got beat up. That could happen to anybody.”

But then Paul fell onto the couch. “I was supposed to get raped.” 

Now Ringo was starting to get confused again. ‘Supposed to.’ It sounded like Paul planned the whole thing, and he knew the younger man wouldn’t have done such a thing. “What do you mean?”

“Just forget it. I don’t want to talk about it.” The drummer didn’t press any further. “Hey, c-could I maybe stay here tonight?”

“Oh, erm, yeah, of course. I’ll go make up a bed for you, okay?”

Paul nodded with a smile, his voice too shaky to thank the older man.


	11. Chapter 11

The night went smoothly. At least, Ringo thought so. It was the first time he’d had a visitor since God knew when, and he was honestly glad that Paul trusted him enough to stay over.

He got up early to make the younger man breakfast, but he wanted to let Paul sleep in as late as he wanted. He had obviously been hurt last night, and he needed the rest.

It was when he heard a scream, though, that he changed his mind. He hurried to Paul’s room to check on him to find that Paul was sitting up in his bed, eyes wide. Without any warning, the bassist lurched forward in the bed, spewing his stomach contents all over the comforter. 

“Oh, my,” Ringo said quietly. “Are you alright?”

Paul shook his head, his lip trembling. And as Ringo got closer to the bed, Paul started to cry. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Did you have a nightmare?”`Paul only nodded, the words seemed to have leapt from his mouth. “I heard you. You sounded scared.”

Ringo approached the bed, starting to pull the comforter off of the bed, Paul grabbed so hard at it that his knuckles turned white.

“Whoa, whoa, okay. I won’t take it off. Why don’t you just step on out, then?”

Paul’s eyes widened. “I can’t,” he whispered, and Ringo looked worriedly at him.

“Why not? Is everything okay? You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“No.”

Ringo stepped closer to the bed, pulling on the comforter again. This time, Paul didn’t try to stop him, letting him pull it back all the way. And that’s when he smelt something so strong, he winced.

“I’m sorry,” Paul cried, but it wasn’t for a few minutes that Ringo got closer to the bed to help him out. He was shocked. He hadn’t seen somebody wet the bed since he was probably seven, and now to see a twenty something year old man… It was honestly shocking. 

But then he noticed the way that Paul was crying. The way the tears wouldn’t stop rolling down his cheeks, and all the shock wore off. “Oh, Paulie. God, it’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

As the younger of the two continued to mutter apologies, Ringo wrapped his right arm around him and pulled him gently from the bed. 

“Hey, it’s really fine. I promise everything’s fine.” Paul shook his head, but he couldn’t get any words out, so Ringo picked him up and started to walk him to the bathroom. 

By the time they were there, Paul had calmed down a little, but definitely not enough. 

“Why don’t you have a shower and just leave those pyjamas in the sink. I’ll get you something else to wear, okay?” 

Paul nodded, and Ringo hurried out of the bathroom, sighing. With eyes wide he went back to the guest room and stared at the bed. How the hell was he supposed to clean this?

Then the phone rang. He picked it up off of the wall and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, is Paul with you?”

It was George, but in the background, he could hear somebody crying. “Yeah, he’s here.”

It was silent for a minute, and then John’s shaky voice spoke. “Can I talk to him? It’s important.”

“He’s in the shower. I’ll bring him over later, okay?”

“What’s he in the bleeding shower for?”

“Erm…” Ringo blanked, not knowing what he was supposed to say. Surely, Paul wouldn’t want the others to know. 

“Did he wet the bed again?”

“A-again?” 

“Shit. I’m a horrible friend. God. Just tell him that I wanted to say sorry, okay? Could you do that?”

“Of c-course!” The drummer assured him through the phone. 

“Thank you so much!” And then the line went dead. Ringo hesitantly put the phone down and got Paul another pair of pyjamas, taking them to him in the bathroom. He opened up the door, hearing as the shower water fell to the floor. 

“Paul! John called.” The water turned off. 

“Oh, God…”

“He said he wanted you to know that he’s sorry. He didn’t say what for. I’m assuming you know already.”

Paul whined. “Can you drive me over to my place?” He stepped out of the shower completely naked, and Ringo covered his eyes. 

“Yeah, I can. Just get dressed. I doubt you’ll fit into my clothes. You’re too tall, so I got more pyjamas.”

“Thanks. Oh, and, er, I can take care of the bed, Richie. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Ringo said quickly, desperate to get out of the bathroom and uncover his eyes. 

“Alright. I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Ringo nodded and slipped out and back into the guest room, where he stood, once again staring at the bed before him. 

He started to pull off the sheets, but it wasn’t long until Paul showed up and helped. They got it taken care of faster together, and they got in the car, heading back to John and Paul’s.


	12. Chapter 12

A knock at the door had John up and off of his feet within seconds. He pulled open the door, and the moment he saw Paul, he launched himself into a hug with him.

“Oh, my God. I thought you were dead. Why didn’t you come home last night?”

Paul didn’t hug back, and he only stared at him. “John, you hung up on me.” Then the older man pulled away, frowning.

“I’m sorry. I was just mad.”

“John, I was hurt! I was hurt, and I called home, thinking that you would come and get me, and you just hung up! I mean, thank God Richie was awake!”

Ringo shifted his weight from one side of his body to the other awkwardly.

“Macca--”

“Just shut up! You couldn’t care less about me! The only person you care about is yourself!” With this, Paul got up and stormed off to his own room, and John covered his mouth, already on the verge of tears.

“John…” George said softly, getting up for the first time since Paul and Ringo had arrived. “Maybe you should go talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” John replied dejectedly.

“Well, you two need to talk. Just try.”

John nodded and hesitantly started to walk back to the hallway where their rooms were. He lightly knocked on Paul’s door.

“Can I come in, Paulie? I don’t want to fight, but please let me explain myself.”

“Okay.” When the bassist spoke, his voice was muffled, and when John got inside the room and closed the door, he saw why. Paul was sitting underneath a blanket on his bed, and little sniffles could be heard every few seconds.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” 

John heard as he sniffled again, and he sighed. Paul definitely wasn’t fine. “I’m sorry, Paul. I should probably tell you something…”

“No, I have to tell you something.”

John, surprised, came to sit down on the bed so he could hear him better. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I don’t have a secret girlfriend.” When Paul said nothing more. John smiled. Was that all Paul wanted to tell him? He was sure he already knew that, anyway.

“Oh, Paul. I know—“

“I was with this guy... named Charles.” Then, silence followed, and Paul began to get worried. “Johnny?”

“I’m here,” he whispered shakily in reply. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you sorry for?” John chuckled nervously. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But I did! I was so scared of myself when my mom died, because I had become so… weak. I was too scared to face my own feelings and went out and slept with this random dude! I thought he was my friend, but he betrayed me!”

“Did… did you not want to sleep with a guy?” 

Paul sniffled again. “I did. But he was evil. You were right. I didn’t know what was safe, and I was being irresponsible and almost got bloody raped--!” He stopped talking when he realised what he said.

“What?! God, are you okay?” John went to move the blanket, but Paul held it down, still refusing to let John see his face.

“I’m fine. I just… it was my fault anyway.”

“How could that possibly be your fault?”

“Because I was too afraid…” He sobbed, and John pulled at the blanket once more.

“Paul--”

“I like you!” he blurted out, covering his face, even though John couldn’t see it anyway. 

“Well, I like you, too,” John replied calmly.

“No, John! Not like as a friend! God, don’t you understand? It’s fucking digusting, and I couldn’t just tell you--”

“I know what you mean, Macca.” He steadied his own breath, focusing his gaze on the ceiling. “I-I meant the same thing.”

After a few seconds, the blanket was lifted off of his head, revealing the tear stained and bruised cheeks of the younger man. “R-really?”

John nodded with a sad smile. “Really.” Paul reached over and hugged him. “Could we be friends again? I really missed you.”

Paul nodded into his shoulder. “Absolutely.”

“But… what’s all this with Charles?” John asked nervously, and the bassist only shook his head.

“Nothing.”

John brushed his hand over Paul’s face. “Love, if he hurt you…”

“It’s fine. I promise that everything’s fine.”

-

George and Ringo went back home, and that night, John and Paul fell asleep in the same bed. 

For the first time all week, Paul woke up peacefully, not a single nightmare to bother him. John was lying next to him when he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he said sweetly. “How did you sleep?”

“Good.” And it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m glad.” Then he leaned over and kissed Paul on the lips. The younger man pulled away at first, afraid that John had been mocking him. But when he looked into John’s eyes, he realised this was no trick. He scooted closer and closed the space between them again. He had never been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m working on a new fic! :D
> 
> It's called [Across the Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569207/chapters/56545366)


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